(Yellow) Untitled story of shortness

Eh.... not my best work, but I'll put it up anyways. it's dirty, quick and okay.

Untitled

Calm.

Calm.

Calm

The sound of Aleksandyr’s thoughts followed the rhythmic rattling of Moscow’s subway. His hand touched the heavy REX revolver for the fourth time
since the last stop. Around him, the three other bodyguards fiddled with their suitcases, trying to look like KGB agents. They weren’t exactly
KGB(ex-Spetsnaz), but did a damn good job of persuading the early-morning commuters they were. With the recent upheaval in the Russian government,
people were willing to accept everything you told them. Like Putin’s coup was just, and those who had died had been traitors and pawns, and the
‘executive action’ was only a temporary state of affairs.

The diplomat’s breathing was rather heavy in the half-empty car. The civilians were crowded at one end, shying away from the ‘handcuffed’ man and his
captors. In reality, the handcuffed man was no criminal, nor was he handcuffed. He was a democrat who felt his life was threatened, and was being
helped out of country. A quick subway ride, then to Sheremet'evo via car. He figured it would be a cakewalk, easy money after getting the man this
far. The handcuffs were fakes, and his bodyguards were armed to the teeth. Aleksandyr was their leader. The nation was collapsing around their ears,
and they had to get out.

He was the first to notice the man talking to the other ‘businessmen’ at the third-to-last stop before the airport. It had been a long ride along the
crumbling rail, but the three were still sharp. Five of them talked to the one man, who appeared to be a factory worker. They displayed a badge, and
the man blanched. He pointed to their car immediately, and the five began heading toward another car. Aleksandyr caught a flash of an AK-47 concealed
in one’s trench coat, and the extended magazine of an AEK-919K submachine gun in another’s. He tapped the bodyguard closest to him.

“Andrei! ANDREI! We have company! Look, tall guys, two with suitcases,” he whispered frantically. Andrei’s only response was to flick the safety of
the MP5K, safely concealed in a suitcase. His free hand went inside his jacket for the Makarov PPM hidden there. Another safety clicked off to their
left as Illia prepared his own weapons. A sawed-off shotgun appeared in his hand, tucked quietly behind his leg so as to not start a panic among the
other passengers. Aleksandyr’s hand was already on his Spectre submachine gun.

It took a few minutes, but he spotted them again. The bulky, obviously military-types were quietly shoving their way through the crowd of the next
car. The three bodyguard pretended not to look at the commotion, instead edging towards whatever cover there was available. The diplomat just held his
head between his legs. The other passengers of the car wisely decided to shuffle to either side and curl up into balls, hoping for things to end
quickly. The streetwise Muscovites knew when trouble was coming, and this was it. The crowds were thin anyways, after the bombing of the rails a few
months ago.

The first of the actual KGB agents was at the glass of the door on his subway car when the bodyguards opened fire. Screams rang out as Andrei put a
three round burst through the glass and into the agent with his suitcase gun. Everyone moved with frightening speed- bodyguards taking cover and
trying to aim through the throng of people who were now stampeding away from the battle now taking place, and KGB agents shoving civilians aside to
try to get their objective. Aleks ducked behind a line of seats running parallel to the aluminum wall, drawing his Spectre. More glass shattered as
the barrel of a Saiga 12k was jammed through the window and fired. Buckshot pinged around the small interior as the train whipped along the rails
towards the stop that the diplomat needed to get off on.

An older woman took a stray bullet from one side and collapsed. Aleks and Andrei kept the agents pinned down as Illia took careful aim with his
shotgun. The man with the Saiga kept shoving his gun through the glass, causing several small wounds to the bodyguards as a rain of buckshot
ricocheted around the car. Aleks, thinking quickly, whipped out his revolver and emptied the cylinder through the door. A grunt an a few droplets of
blood were his reward as the train lurched to a stop. Andrei had whipped his MP5k out of the case, and began going cyclic trying to keep the agents
down. Illia and Aleksandyr shoved and pulled the diplomat along, ignoring his cries of pain from a wounded leg. As they hauled him out the door, they
heard a scream. Andrei shuffled backwards as his chest exploded in gore. All the other two bodyguard caught was a glimpse, then the train was off
again with a roar. It was going to be a long ride to the airport.

When they got there, more of the diplomat’s personal guard waited next to a personal jet. From here, Aleks would be free and well paid. But what then?
Andrei was dead, and he was a wanted man. Maybe he could find a beach, some nice American girls...

Thanks, WW. This will probably be the first of three entries on my part. when I regain consciousness late tommorow, I'll go over it, maybe legnthen
it and stuff. Maybe add a second part...kinda left everyone hanging, quiaff?

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